Challenge 4 Completed! +4 Stat Points +4 Skill Points +40 Points The MPR is locked until all students have completed Challenge 4 or died during.

Nathan looked around the classroom, then adjusted his backpack and made his way to the cafeteria. It was dinnertime. Inside, he found three other students waiting. William was there, though judging by the fresh blood on his jacket, he had probably only recently shown up. Madeline was lounging at a table, looking as arrogant as she had grown to appear during their trials.

And finally, a student Nathan wasn't familiar with. Another guy, with dark brown hair and dark blue eyes, his bangs a little long, nearly covering his eyes. He wasn't wearing the school jacket, though most of them had taken to not wearing it. From what Nathan could see, he had it tied around his waist instead.

The student had no visible weapon, making Nathan wonder what he wielded.

Grabbing a tray and filling it with food, Nathan found a table and sat, then began eating as he reviewed his gains. The Stat Points, he immediately placed into Endurance. He was at 7 Skill Points, and could buy up to 6. Not enough to get anything unless he went with Scan or grabbed one of his Level 20 Skills.

He really liked the idea of his Level 40 Skills, though, and wanted to check his Points Shop. He'd consider buying another Weapons Repair Kit, though didn't think he'd need it for another Challenge or two.

Additional Weapon? Nathan wondered as he spotted it in the Points Shop.

It cost more, sitting at 150 Points to purchase. Was that because he'd already purchased all three weapons? Or did purchasing all three weapons unlock stronger ones? Nathan found himself at a loss for what to do. He wanted to find out what Additional Weapon (II) did, if that existed, but at the same time, knew he had to conserve his Points for more important things. He already had three weapons.

Speaking of the weapons, Nathan closed his Points Shop and opened up his Weapons Box, focusing on the Shadow Sword and pulling up its information.

Shadow Sword Level 1 Damage Bonus: 5 per Level of this weapon

In other words, the 'shadow' part of it only came from the coloration. The weapon might have been able to receive something relating to its name with mods, though, so he'd have to check that out, once he had a few more Points to just spend freely.

Nathan dismissed his windows and finished lunch, then made his way to the ceramics room. He walked over to the pair of cups, which had finished drying on the shelf running along the wall with the door and the kilns during the challenge. After ensuring they were ready, he walked to the back of the room and opened the furthest kiln, set the cups inside, then secured the door before turning it on.

It would take three days before he retrieved the cups. One day for the kiln to reach the proper temperature, one for it to actually fire, and one for it to cool down enough for him to be able to retrieve them.

Nathan didn't have to worry about anyone turning it off or opening it on him – the game's student handbook actually forbid such actions, and considered it an act of theft to sabotage someone's work. There were two kilns and no other pieces of pottery in the room, so Nathan knew he wasn't hogging the kiln.

With his project firing, Nathan made his way to the nearest restroom, relieved himself, then headed to the locker rooms and stripped, heading into the showers and blasting himself with hot water. He scrubbed himself thoroughly, rinsed off, dried off, got dressed, then went to the laundry room.

Michael looked like he had returned, since he was in there with Madeline. The two of them were stripping off their clothes and tossing them into a washer. Nathan ignored them and bought laundry detergent and fabric softener, then made his way to a washer and tossed his dirty clothes and towel inside, slammed the door shut, and turned it on.

He set his backpack onto a table and hopped up next to it, then began to watch the washer. Madeline and Michael had left, and after twenty minutes, returned with towels draped over their shoulders and their hair wet from the showers they'd taken. They tossed the towels into the washers, then asked Nathan if he wanted to join them.

"No."

The duo shrugged, then got busy with each other, and Nathan ignored them. When his washer beeped, he hopped off the table and transferred the clothes into the dryer.

"Hey, Nathan," Samantha said as Nathan closed the dryer. He pressed the button and turned around to face her. "Why am I not surprised you made it out before me?"

"Points?"

"Exactly fifty."

Nathan nodded, then hopped back upon to the table to watch the dryer. Samantha was wearing a fresh outfit, her hair still a bit wet from her shower. She cleaned up before coming to the laundry room.

Samantha got the laundry stuff and tossed her things into the washer Nathan just emptied, then sat up next to him, doing her best to focus on the boy beside her and not the pair fucking at the other table.

That wasn't hard for her, though, once she started looking at Nathan – really looking. His face had always entranced her, and lately, it seemed he became more handsome with every Challenge. In fact, it was almost as if he'd gone from unintentionally hot while trying to blend to a godlike beauty. The blue of his eyes were the same, rich, vibrant color they had always been, and that near-glow to them seemed to be even stronger than before. His platinum-blond hair was a little dark from the water from his shower, his eyebrows – already dry – nearly invisible, they were such a light blond.

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His eyebrows looked almost as if made out of sunlight, and his hair, while still darker from the wet, looks as if they were strands of sparkling gold.

Samantha's eyes traveled down to his arms. She knew that beneath the jacket and shirt were tight, fine muscles, both because of his training and because of seeing and feeling them at night. His skin was unbelievably smooth to her, and she enjoyed rubbing his arms while he slept. She'd do his abs, too, if she thought she could get away with it.

As her eyes moved down to his perfectly-normal-yet-somehow-very-attractive hands, she noticed that they were folded over his crotch, where she could discern a bit of a bulge.

Wondering whether that stemmed from the fucking couple at the other table or from something else, Samantha looked up at his face, finding his eyes filled with steel and jaw clenched tightly. He hadn't been doing that when she was looking at his face.

She realized that he knew she was checking him out, and he got hard from it.

She quickly turned her gaze back to her washer, doing her best to tune out the sound of flesh smacking against flesh.

When Nathan's laundry finished, he fetched it, swiftly folded it, sent it all into his Clothing Box, then pulled on his backpack and left, leaving Samantha alone.

She was grateful when Madeline and Michael finished fucking and got dressed, their clothes finished, leaving her around twenty minutes before her own laundry finished. Once it did, she folded her laundry, then made her way to the cafeteria for a late snack, then went to Room 504, where Nathan was sleeping.

As usual, she walked over and knelt down beside his air mattress.

"Nathan?" She asked quietly.

His eyes opened immediately, and he rolled them, lifting the blanket up. She stepped out of her shoes and laid down, and after she fell asleep, Nathan snuggled up against her, draping an arm over his sleeping crush.

When morning came, Nathan left the room and made his way to the nearest restrooms to relieve his bladder and his boner, then returned to the classroom, where Samantha was waking. He ignored her gazing at his abs as he walked over and grabbed his shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it up.

"Do you want to spar with me?" She asked.

"Maybe later."

Nathan finished buttoning up his shirt as Samantha stood and stretched.

"Nathan," she said, then waited.

"What?" He asked as he fixed his top button, then grabbed his tie and began to fix it around his neck.

"For dinner tonight, would you mind staying in here?"

"Why?" Nathan gave her a confused look as he tightened his tie, then grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. "Well?"

"Dinner for just the two of us," she told him. "I'll make it myself?"

"Date?"

"Yes," she answered, her cheeks reddening just a small bit.

"I decline."

"Nathan-"

"You just see me as a brother."

Samantha sighed, rubbing her temples.

"I know I said that," she told him. "But it was a lie, Nathan, and it's eaten at me these last four years. And now-now, we're in this fucked-up game, and it's probably only going to continue getting even more fucked-up. I want a date with you, even if it's just once. I know I'll want a second, and a third, and a fourth, but we can deal with that after. And if we make it out of here, who knows? But I want one now, in case we never get that chance to explore a relationship free from here. In case we all die here, in this fucked-up game. So, please, Nathan – just one date, tonight, for dinner."

"Their food isn't exactly date-worthy."

"The culinary classroom is restocked with food daily," she told him. "We can cook in there, if we want. Actually, we can have dinner in there."

"You cook?" Nathan raised an eyebrow, causing Samantha to flush.

"Yes," she said. "After you stopped attending the dojo and hanging out with me, I learned how to cook. I will still probably bow to you in terms of raw ability, but I can cook a decent meal."

"I'm not getting burnt noodles, am I?"

"No!" She exclaimed, her face crimson. "And I only did that once!"

"Four times."

"Once!"

"Four times."

"Once!"

Nathan stared at her.

"Okay, maybe I accidentally burned them more than once. But still! I was twelve!"

"I haven't burned noodles. Ever."

"Yeah, well, my mother isn't a professional chef with stars to her name."

Nathan shrugged. Samantha was one of the only people he knew from school who actually knew who his parents were or what they did. His mother ran a restaurant of her own not far from the school, and despite their more 'moderate' living area, it was pretty popular.

He didn't actually learn how to cook from his mom, though – she was rarely home enough to teach him regularly. He started cooking when he was six and his father had forgotten to feed him. He didn't burn the pasta… but he did burn the sauce.

Not that he'd bring that up. Someone else would have to for him to admit it.

He didn't blame his father for forgetting to feed him back then, and hadn't back then, either. Even at six, he understood his father sometimes forgot about some things when work got bad or busy. He was a high-priced lawyer across the river and often passed out right after dinner when things were busy.

If Nathan remembered correctly, his father had been dealing with a complicated mess of inheritance for a family worth about three hundred million when Nathan first braved using the kitchen.

A smile played at his lips as he remembered his father's reaction to the meal. Nathan knew he'd burned the sauce and didn't like the way it tasted, so cooked it for less time the next time, but his father didn't comment on it.

He'd put a smile on his face, forced the bad sauce down, and complimented Nathan. Then, he suggested that if he ever forgot to feed Nathan again, to just let him know he was hungry, and that if he ever wanted to cook, to just ask, and he'd be more than willing to help.

His mother helped sometimes, though most of Nathan's culinary education came from his father or self-improvement. Or T.V. – he watched a lot of it to learn how to cook. Even when he was little, Nathan's mind had worked differently from other kids his age, which might explain a few of his quirks and darker secrets.

Secrets his father helped him hide.

Nathan had panicked the day Samantha discovered one of them. He didn't want to get rid of her, he'd liked her two much. It was a few months after she discovered it that he confessed his feelings to her.

For the last four years, he'd thought part of her response was because of it. Her current comments, however, led him to believe that if that were true, then she'd truly liked him back then.

Of course, it could just be manipulations on her part, but…

"What time?"

"Six?" She asked.

"Okay," he said, pulling his backpack on. "See you at six."